Teen Wolf: Dragon Among Wolves

Chapter 165: Stiles vs. The Kludde

While Jacob, Stiles, Satomi, Brett, and Lori were walking aimlessly through the woods, the quiet of the evening was suddenly broken by the sounds of roaring and fighting. They followed the noise and emerged into a clearing where Derek and Peter were training Boyd, Jackson, Isaac, and Tracy—pushing them hard to maintain control under the full moon.

Derek's group stopped and turned toward the newcomers.

Jacob greeted Derek and Tracy, then looked at Peter with a lazy smile. "How about a spar, Peter?"

Peter took a step back, his expression wary. "No. I'm good."

Jacob turned to Satomi. "Let's wait for that thing here. I'm hungry." He moved to the edge of the clearing, found a fallen tree trunk, and broke it apart with his bare hands. He stacked the wood into a neat pile and snapped his fingers—flames leaped from his palm, igniting the bonfire.

He pulled out a generous amount of Sker Buffalo meat from his pocket dimension, sprinkled salt and seasoning over the raw cuts, and began roasting them over the fire.

Satomi sat beside him, watching him with quiet curiosity.

Stiles, meanwhile, looked at Jackson, Boyd, and Isaac. "How about we spar? The three of you against me. And you don't have to hold back."

Before Isaac or Jackson could refuse, Boyd—who still remembered having his wrist broken by Stiles—stepped forward. "Sure."

Stiles smirked. "Great. Remember—don't hold back." He glanced at Tracy. "You should sit this one out. I don't want to beat you and then hear Scott complain about it tomorrow."

Tracy stepped aside. "I wasn't going to help them anyway."

Boyd attacked first. He lunged with supernatural speed—but Stiles was faster. A single kick sent Boyd flying backward, crashing into a bush.

Isaac and Jackson charged together. Stiles sidestepped, caught Isaac by the arm, and hurled him into Jackson. Both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

The three betas rose and attacked again. And again. Each time, Stiles dealt with them effortlessly—dodging, countering, sending them sprawling.

Derek watched his betas get thrown around like rag dolls. He shook his head and walked to the fire, sitting down with a resigned sigh. Peter and Tracy followed. Even Brett and Lori stopped watching the spar and gathered around the warmth of the flames.

Satomi glanced at Jacob. "Aren't you worried about your friend? Those three betas have completely lost control."

Jacob flipped the roasting meat. "The one who should be worried is Derek. Stiles might beat his betas so badly that they develop trauma and never want to shift again."

Derek's jaw tightened. "They'll be fine. Pain is the fastest way to teach them control." He looked at Satomi. "I remember you. You used to visit my mother."

Satomi nodded, her gaze drifting toward the dark trees. "Yes. Talia was a good friend of mine. It's a shame what happened to her and her pack. She didn't deserve that." Her voice grew softer. "When I got the news, I was heartbroken. I lost control for the first time in years that day." She looked at Derek. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Derek's expression softened. "Thank you."

He turned to Jacob. "You said you were waiting for something. Can you tell me what?"

Jacob explained about the Kludde. Satomi filled in the details about how it had been stalking Lori and Brett, tormenting them, feeding on their fear.

They talked as the meat sizzled over the fire. When it was ready, Jacob shared with everyone—but he took five large pieces for himself, piling them onto a plate he produced from his pocket dimension.

Stiles, who had been relentlessly beating Derek's betas, caught the scent of cooked meat. He came running, his hand reaching toward Jacob's plate.

Jacob growled.

It was a low, deep sound—primal, dangerous. It echoed through the clearing, and everyone froze.

Stiles's hand stopped mid-reach. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought that was mine."

Jacob growled again.

Stiles withdrew his hand and sat down quickly. "Okay, okay! Stop growling already!" He grabbed a piece of meat from the fire and began chewing.

Derek looked at Jacob. "I don't know how you pulled that meat out of nowhere, but… you wouldn't happen to have a Coke, would you?"

Jacob smirked. "I do." He produced several cans and passed them around.

Stiles saw his chance. While Jacob was distracted, he snatched one of the large pieces from Jacob's plate and wolfed it down in three massive bites.

Everyone noticed. Even Jacob.

But Jacob didn't stop him. He just watched, an unreadable expression on his face.

Stiles swallowed the last bite, burped, and grinned. "That was delicious."

Jacob's smile turned cold. "Did you enjoy eating my share of the food?"

Stiles swallowed hard. "You… you saw that?"

Jacob's eyes gleamed. "What's the most important rule of our family when it comes to food?"

Stiles's face paled. "Never… never take food from your plate. Or Malia's. Or Kitty's."

"So you do remember."

Stiles sighed and stood up, spreading his arms wide. "Okay. I'm ready. Just… be gentle, please."

Jacob took a bite of his own meat, chewed slowly, and said, "Have a nice flight."

He wrapped Stiles in his telekinesis and teleported him high into the sky—then let him go.

Stiles plummeted.

Peter looked around. "Where is he?"

Jacob pointed upward. "There."

Everyone looked up. High above, a tiny figure was falling, arms and legs flailing, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Derek's eyes widened. "He'll die if he falls from that height."

Jacob took another bite. "He'll be fine."

Stiles tried to teleport to Serendell—and couldn't. "Of course he won't let me escape!" He fell faster, the ground rushing up to meet him. "OH MY GOD, I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GONNA DIE! JACOB, I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T LET ME HIT THE GROUND!"

He kept screaming, kept falling—and when he was inches from impact, Jacob teleported him back into the sky and dropped him again.

For twenty minutes, Stiles fell. Again and again. Each time, Jacob caught him at the last second and threw him back up. Stiles screamed the entire time—raw, terrified, desperate.

Finally, Jacob stopped. He caught Stiles a meter above the ground and let him drop.

Stiles hit the dirt, hugged his knees, and trembled. "That… that was so terrifying…"

After a long moment, he stood—still shaking—and walked back to the fire. He sat down heavily. "You are so evil, man. You know that? The fear of hitting the ground from that height was probably worse than actually hitting it. And you kept me living that fear for twenty minutes."

Jacob smiled serenely. "That'll teach you to eat my food."

Stiles looked at Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson, who were sitting with Derek, eating and grinning at his misery. His eyes narrowed. "How about we continue our spar?"

Boyd shook his head. "Nope. I'm good, man."

Isaac and Jackson spoke in unison. "Me too."

Stiles turned to Peter. "How about you? Want to spar?"

Peter shook his head firmly. "No."

Satomi had watched the entire display in silence. She was surprised by Jacob's powers—the teleportation, the telekinesis. But she didn't ask. She simply observed.

The group finished the meat. Derek, Peter and Satomi began talking—about Talia, about werewolf politics, about the old days. The others listened, drawn into stories of a time before the fire.

Two hours passed.

Then Jacob felt it.

A presence. Moving toward them from the opposite direction of the wind—so they wouldn't catch its scent. But Jacob felt it. Getting closer. Closer.

"It's here," he said quietly.

Stiles straightened. "Really?"

Jacob nodded. "Yeah. Are you ready?"

Stiles cracked his knuckles. "Yes."

Jacob looked to the far side of the clearing. He raised a hand and waved it lazily. From behind a bush, a man in his forties—wearing a dark leather coat and black jeans—was yanked into the air, floated across the clearing, and dropped in the middle of the open space.

He scrambled to his feet, panicked, looking around wildly.

Jacob gestured. "He's all yours."

Stiles stood and walked toward the man, an unsettling smile spreading across his face. "I just got abused, so I really want to abuse someone. So prepare yourself." His smile widened. "And since you feed on fear… I hope you like the taste of your own."

The man barely had time to react. Stiles punched him hard, sending him crashing to the ground. Then a kick to the ribs, breaking them with a sickening crack. The man flew into a tree trunk and slumped to the forest floor.

He rose, blood dripping from his mouth. His wounds were already healing. His eyes glowed blue—not the soft blue of a normal werewolf, but harsh, burning, like small flames.

His body shifted. His clothes ripped apart as he transformed into a massive black wolf with leathery wings, the membranes tattered and full of holes. Chains rattled around his body.

He snarled at Stiles—then spun around and tried to flee, launching into the air with a rasping, chilling shriek. "Kludde, Kludde! Kludde, Kludde!"

Stiles smirked. "Not so fast, you creepy bastard." He raised a hand. Lightning gathered above his palm, swirling into the shape of a weasel. He sent it after the Kludde.

The lightning weasel caught up in seconds. It struck the creature mid-flight, electrocuting him. The Kludde convulsed, crashed to the ground, and lay there smoking.

Satomi raised an eyebrow. Lori and Brett stared at Stiles in shock.

Boyd and Isaac exchanged glances. They realized now that when Stiles had been sparring with them, he hadn't been serious at all.

Jackson clenched his jaw, envy burning in his eyes.

Derek and Peter glanced at Jacob, knowing full well who had given Stiles those powers.

Jacob smirked at them and continued watching the fight.

Stiles waited patiently for the Kludde to heal. He was in no hurry.

When the creature's convulsions stopped, he rose. No longer trying to flee. He shifted again—from wolf to humanoid wolf. A monster covered in black fur, standing 2.3 meters tall. Leathery wings sprouted from his back. Chains wrapped around his body. His head remained a wolf's head, jaws dripping with saliva.

He roared in fury and pointed both hands at Stiles. Two chains shot from his palms, streaking toward Stiles.

Stiles caught both chains with one hand and wrapped them around his arm. Then he yanked hard.

The Kludde flew toward him, helpless against the pull. Stiles punched him in the snout—a devastating blow that shattered bone and sent teeth flying in all directions.

The Kludde whimpered in pain.

Stiles unwrapped the chains, grabbed them with both hands, and spun the creature like a flail. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he slammed it into a thick tree trunk—and its bones cracked on impact.

Stiles let go of the chains and stepped back. "Time to end this."

He raised his hand and summoned the lightning weasel again. This time, he poured more energy into it—creating a weasel the size of a horse, crackling with raw power.

Jacob raised his own hand and created an energy shield in front of everyone.

Just in time.

The lightning weasel struck the Kludde. It didn't just electrocute him—it exploded on impact, like a lightning bolt hitting the ground. The Kludde's body burst apart, pieces flying in every direction. The tree behind him exploded. The ground caved in, leaving a smoking crater.

Stiles was caught in the blast of his own attack. He wasn't hurt—but he was covered in pieces of the Kludde. He turned aside and began dry heaving.

Jacob dismissed the shield and walked toward Stiles, leaving everyone else frozen in shock.

He waved a hand, casting a cleaning spell. The gore vanished. Stiles straightened, wiping his mouth. "Thanks, man."

Jacob said, "Did you have to use that much energy?"

Stiles shrugged. "I figured since he was a shapeshifter, I should use more power. I didn't think my attack would explode like that. I thought it would just shock him to death."

Jacob smacked the back of his head. "Didn't you use your lightning weasel before during training? Didn't you see what happens when you pour too much energy into it?"

Stiles rubbed his head sheepishly. "I did. But I thought it would only explode when it hit the ground—not when it hit a target." He shrugged again. "Anyway, let's just say it was a learning experience."

Jacob nodded toward the group. Everyone except Peter, Derek, and Satomi was staring at Stiles with wide eyes—and more than a little fear.

"You scared the shit out of them," Jacob said.

Stiles glanced at them and shrugged again. "I scared myself too."

Jacob looked at Satomi. "Well. It was nice meeting you." He turned to Derek. "See you around."

He put a hand on Stiles's shoulder, and they vanished.

---

They reappeared in Noah's office.

Noah, who had been reading a report, nearly jumped out of his chair. "Jacob! You have got to stop showing up like this! What if someone was here with me?"

Jacob waved a hand. "Don't worry too much." Then he teleported away, leaving Stiles alone with his father.

Noah stared at his son. "Do I want to know?"

Stiles dropped into a chair. "Probably not."

---

Jacob appeared in his mansion. It was empty. He teleported again—this time to Serendell.

He found his wives in the shared living room, along with Cogman, Kitty, Natalie, Chris, and Victoria. They were all gathered around the large screen, watching something.

Jacob walked in, kissed each of his wives, and sat down on the couch. Kitty immediately climbed into his lap, rubbed her cheek against his, and went back to playing on her phone.

Jacob looked at the TV. The news was on. A reporter was standing outside a government building, speaking in a somber tone.

"—Secretary of Defense Williams has tragically died in a fishing accident off the coast of Alaska. The Department of Defense has released a statement expressing their deepest condolences to his family—"

Jacob smirked. "At least they're smart enough not to blame me for his death."

Allison turned to him. "Was it you who killed him? Cogman told us that he was on the S.D.E.S. ship when you went to pick up the gold."

Jacob shook his head. "Technically, it wasn't me. He got shot by his own people when I teleported him in front of me."

Melissa leaned forward. "What happened when you went to pick up the gold?"

Jacob told them everything—Maria's warning, the politicians, the attack, the mountain ash, the sonic weapons, the machine guns. The secretary's death. The warning he gave to the others.

Lydia shook her head. "Seriously? They saw the video of you fighting a giant sea serpent. They watched you drop a meteor on it. And they still tried to attack you?" She sighed. "Human stupidity has no bounds."

Malia crossed her arms. "You should have killed all of those idiots."

Jacob shook his head. "Maria warned me in advance. She genuinely wants to be friends with me. I spared those idiots as a favor to her."

Malia sniffed the air. "You smell like barbecue. Where have you been? And why didn't you take me with you?"

Jacob told them about the Kludde, and Stiles's explosive finale. Then he smiled. "How about we have a barbecue party outside?"

Malia and Kitty both shouted, "Yes! I'm in!"

Cogman stood. "I'll make the preparations." He teleported to the kitchen.

Jacob and everyone else teleported outside the palace. Soon, Noah, Stiles, and Scott joined them.

The night was warm. The fire crackled. Meat sizzled on the grill. Laughter echoed across the magical fields of Serendell.

To be continued… 😊

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